malalignment
by Iori-chan-sempai
Summary: No CS spoilers. She was too bright for his eyes. Jin/Tsubaki.


He could remember the press of her forehead into his shoulder with startling clarity, the soft warmth of her breath, of her words against his uniform the day he had been officially deployed.

"Be careful," Tsubaki told him, her voice just starting to crack, "Don't die," and Jin had nodded solemnly. She inhaled and Jin had felt the movement of her lips on his coat- "I love you," spoken so softly that Jin couldn't understand it.

She didn't move from his side, was doing her best not to cry (her breath coming in half pants, little sobs, but nothing was wetting his jacket) and it made him guilt, regret, extend a hand to comfort her. He had swallowed, fingers so close to brushing against her back, to soothing her despair- and froze. His arm dropped as quickly as it had risen and, without warning, Jin couldn't bear to even look at her.

It was ridiculous, how he felt like a traitor- a liar- whenever he thought of her. After all, death was the only truth in the world; love and care he had left behind all those years ago when he had left behind everything (except Ragna who somehow managed to follow him everywhere, or was he doing the following?). That was what he preached, what he honestly believed, but he couldn't deny the odd feeling (like something half-whole and charred, degraded, was slithering in his breast) whenever Tsubaki talked to him, whenever she smiled brightly, gently, at him.

Oh, how he ignored it, how it had been so, so easy to ignore it! Just another lie, another sweet superficial emotion that had grown after years of complacency, years of familiarity, something the human mind fosters on its own to ensure propagation. Of course, Jin had liked her, he thought fondly of her, considered her the younger sister he wished he could have had- quiet and smart and infatuated with _him_.

But when had it grown? When hadn't Jin been looking at that dark, swirling feeling, keeping it in check? In her absence, when he had been in the war, ankle deep in gasping, half-alive corpses, his thoughts had always drifted. They had told him to provide the quickest end to the conflict and Jin followed his orders. What point was there in not following them? But along side that simple resignation to do as he was told, there was another desire: the repugnance of the battlefield, the death- he didn't want her to see it.

How many months were left until her deployment? Tsubaki was too kind, too lovely, too bright to ever step foot upon this twisted place- so he'd do it. Why wouldn't he? For the NOL, for her, he'd become a villian, destroy everything in his path so that she didn't have to worry about anything other than patrols and paperwork.

Silly him, in all that thought, he had actually become a hero.

Tsubaki's letters had grown even more tender, even more irking with his return, the unwritten question of "why don't you come home?" staining every page. Jin never addressed it, only wrote the barest of notes back to her, asked how her training was coming along, but not once did her letters stop- not even when Jin heard of Ragna the Bloodedge and his terse replies were as rare as a blue moon.

"Tsubaki hasn't been the same since you left," Vermillion had said him, and there were so many conflicting emotions, past and present colliding together inside of his head. She was right in front of him, mocking him with that grating voice, that pitiable expression. She was a ghost in human form, fitting so perfectly into Saya's niche- right in between he and his brother. How dare she even say Tsubaki's name? Ah, Tsubaki- she was why Jin had been civil to her, she was how he had ever been able to keep up a facade.

"I know Noel's a klutz," Tsubaki had said after they were left standing alone in the hallways, "But she's a really good person." Jin had gotten so used to not feeling anything that he had forgotten how to hide his emotions, and Tsubaki had no doubt been able to read the disdain, hatred dwelling in his gaze even if she couldn't understand why. He had feigned ignorance, citing Noel's below average grades as the reason for his immediate disapproval, but Tsubaki's concern never left her face, and she spoke quietly, "I hope that you can get along with her."

And he had smiled, had crushed down every scream in his head, every alarm going off, and lied, smiled and lied for her, "Me, too."

but this was different than biting his lip and holding back, this was unforgivable, unacceptable. Ragna, Nii-san was _here_- and she was standing in his way, telling him to turn back, blocking him from his brother. Vermillion was just another piece of trash, another obstacle on the path to the only thing that could make him feel alive. Ignorance was not an excuse- not when it was her. Yukianesa agreed, purred into his mind how sweet it would be to freeze her and break her into a hundred pieces until he could almost salivate at the tantalizing certainty of her erasure. Finally, this fucking girl who he had always been so gentle to, so fake to would be crushed in his fingers.

It was so easy! Jin hardly believed it- god, Bolverk was nothing compared to Yukianesa, that stupid girl was absolutely worthless. One minute he's stabbing forward into her gut, consumed in rage and righteousness, and the next he's standing there, covered in blood and laughing aloud. It was hers- Jin could tell, still warm to the touch. For hours it seemed, the only thing running through him was a cord of victorious disbelief. He had finally killed her, _killed_ her,

killed

Ah, Tsubaki would be sad to find out, wouldn't she? She had... always...

Instantly drowning that glee was a sadness, a regret which only lasted for a moment but was profound enough to knock the air from his lungs, force open his eyes- and make him realize that all that was nothing but a dream.

Noel Vermillion was still alive, still getting in the way, still between he and his brother- but in some obscure corner of himself, he was relieved- happy! If Vermillion wasn't dead at his hands, Tsubaki wouldn't cry, wouldn't look at him with anger and sadness, and Jin was absurdly pleased with that knowledge.

But it was horrifyingly familiar to him; there was something so nostalgic about this feeling, that transported him back to an earlier time, to the days when he tried his best not to rise to Saya's barbs and just the thought of his brother's approval was enough to make him warm.

Any satisfaction faded away, replaced with something so close to fear that it made him shudder. He shut the lid tight on that foolish pleasure, forbid himself from ever thinking about it again, because Jin knew, Jin remembered what it meant-

Tsubaki couldn't see that he was broken, but that was his own fault for never showing her, never showing anyone, and it made the weight of her feelings even more unbearable to him. Her affection was so pure, so perfect and completely unfathomable to someone like him; it was mystifying how Jin could recognize it when all he did was read her letters, shocking how just touching the dried ink could make something well up inside of him in kind, make him think that maybe (know that certainly) she could make him feel.

Ah, but that was all wrong- this sensation, this emotion was a lie. Jin knew the horrible darkness steeped in jealousy, in hate, knew the invasive thoughts of blood and pain, the sweet longing for a monopoly that can only end in death. Jin knew his love (and most of all knew that it wasn't).

Tsubaki had whispered the words so quietly into his shoulder the day he had left.

"Be careful," and Jin had striven not to be caught off guard- yet here he was, blindsided. What had he done to have such feelings again?

He, who was so undeserving of both being their recipient and their donor, was choked up and longing once more for something he could never have- no, something he could so easily have. And that's what made it worse, what turned it into agony.

"Don't die," and Jin had returned from war without a scratch. Yet, instead of protecting himself, he foolishly wanted to protect others, wanted to protect her. He wondered, had Tsubaki allowed herself to be a bit more naive, maybe she would have given him a perfectly impossible command- "don't kill"- and it would have changed everything.

"I love you," and Jin had swallowed, looked away, pretended not to hear a thing. That day, he hadn't dared to reach out a hand to her frail shoulders, hadn't dared to give her a single comfort because that sickly unnamed emotion was spilling into his gut. Those black tendrils of lust, envy, possession were crawling into his veins, spurred on by her vulnerability- and if he even touched her, they would curl around her and swallow her up.

So he restrained himself, let Tsubaki rest herself against his chest, and didn't love her, wouldn't, couldn't bear to have that beautiful girl never shine again.


End file.
